Via Romea Germanica Day 78: Padova - Monselice

Monselice is the most picturesque town I have seen in Italy. It has an old ruin of a castle upon the hill and thence commands a beautiful and extraordinary view. It lies in the wide plain – a dead level – whereon Ferrara, Bologna, Rovigo, Este, Padua stand and even Venice we could dimly see in the horizon rising with her tiara of proud towers. What a walk, and what a wide delightful picture!

- Ralph Waldo Emerson, Journals (31 May 1833)

Mid-September: the perfect time to return to Padova and get back to walking on the Via Romea Germanica!

My train rolled into Padova station just before 2 pm on September 15th. It took me a few minutes to get orientated and out of the vast piazzale of the train station, through a few suburban roundabouts and a construction site or two, after which I suddenly found myself in the gardens surrounding the ruins of the Roman amphitheatre. I was standing right outside the Scrovegni Chapel, but had no intention of repeating the lengthy procedure involved in entering the chapel, described in my previous post. So I sat on a stone bench in the garden - most likely a former chunk of Roman wall - and made a plan for the afternoon. 

Ruins of the Roman amphitheatre 

The Scrovegni Chapel 

I decided to follow the course of the River Bacchiglione, which flows through Padova in a controlled, canalised form, to the point where the Battaglia canal branches off it south of the city centre, and then walk along the side of the canal to the home of my hostess for the evening. This route took me past the 13th-century Ezzelino Tower, past the Ponte Molino - the bridge where I entered the city upon arriving in June - under the porticos of Via Savonarola and along the ancient city walls, now converted into apartments with the addition of modern door and window fixtures.  I continued along the tree-lined river (or canal), past canal-side houses, some of which were almost Venetian in aspect.

Torre di Ezzellino

Ponte Molino

Via Savonarola 

Apartments in the city walls

The stroll through these quiet residential districts along the river was pretty, but after a while I turned off to pay another visit to the cathedral and its wonderful frescoed baptistery, at which I had only been able to take a surreptitious perk in June as there was a guided tour in progress for a school group. This time I deposited my backpack, paid for my ticket and took the complete tour, with audioguide explanation and coordinated illumination of the various parts of Giusto de Menabuoi's marvellous 14th-century fresco cycle.

Also included in the ticket was the adjacent Bishop's Palace, containing the Diocesan Museum, which, in addition to the usual crucifixions, Madonna-and-Childs and bishops' robes, also included the Bishops' Hall, decorated with portaits of the first hundred bishops of Padova. Restorers were at work touching up the ceiling cornices.

Leaving the Palazzo Vescovile, I returned briefly to the river Bacchiglione before abandoning it once again in search of refreshments. I stopped for a restorative spritz and crisps before continuing on my way, stopping in to pay a visit to the Capuchin friars at the Sanctuary of San Leopoldo Mandić. 

Bogdan Mandić was born in 1866, the 15th child of Croatian parents in what is now Montenegro. After studying at the seminary in Udine, he became a Franciscan friar, first in Bassano del Grappa and then, for more than 30 years, in the monastery in Padova where he is now venerated as a saint.  

Father Leopoldo's last habit, reverently displayed 

The friars would have hosted me, as a pilgrim, if they hadn't had restoration work under way on their monastery. The friar I encountered in the entryway  directed me to the souvenir shop to get my pilgrim credential stamped and confirmed that the monks are not currently able to host pilgrims. Servas to the rescue: when I first heard this news only a few days before coming to Padova, I contacted a family of Servas members who live on the city's southern edge, just off the canal-side path followed by the Via Romea Germanica. The parents, whom I contacted, replied that they were currently on holiday in Greece, but their daughter was at home and could host me. And so it came about that I spent my evening in Padova in the company of a group of people in their early twenties: my hostess, Chiara, along with her younger sister Caterina and her boyfriend, who joined us for dinner.  

Chiara and Caterina discussed their plans for the following day: they were going to pick up their 87-year-old grandmother and take her to lunch at a place in the mountains where she used to holiday in her youth. "Be prepared for a long day of reminiscences," one sister jokingly warned the other. This led to an extensive discussion of the various grandparents of those present, and, as a person who will be nearing a grandmotherly age not too far in the future, I found it reassuring to hear with what interest, affection and respect these young people talked about their elders. 

Assigned the absent parents' room and ensuite bathroom for the night, I slept well and was up before my hostess in the morning. I made myself a cup of coffee, spread some jam on a roll and breakfasted alone, prepared my pack and was just about to put my boots on when Chiara appeared. We said goodbye and I returned to the canal-side path, which soon turned into a paved cycling track and access road, heading dead straight south across the flat valley, surrounded by semi-industrial districts and cropland, with the busy SS 16 Adriatica highway just across the canal.

The monotony of walking along the canal was interrupted by one amusing incident. The one and only traffic light on the route, at a small road bridge, had just turned red when I reached it, so I rested the weight of my pack on a stone pedestal at the head of the bridge and leaned back against it to take the weight off my shoulders as I contemplated the view over the corn fields to the Euganei hills in the distance. When the light turned green and I started walking again, I felt something dripping down the back of my legs; I wondered briefly whether I had suddenly become incontinent, before a chemical smell alerted me to the fact that the canister of mosquito and tick spray in the side pocket of my pack had somehow been tilted and activated when I leaned up against the pillar! I removed my backpack, rightened the offending canister, and proceeded on my way, reeking of insecticide. At least the mosquitos won't be bothering me for a while! 

The canal-side path became more interesting as I passed a series of wineries, at the foot of the Euganei hills, and a castle. 

Il Catajo is a castle built in 1570 for the Obizzi family, one of Renaissance Europe's foremost providers of mercenary forces. Further expanded in the 19th century, it eventually became a residence of the Hapsburg emperors of Austria. 

I didn't have the time and energy to tour the castle's 350 rooms, and in any case it didn't open until three in the afternoon, so I continued along the canal-side cycling path to Battaglia Terme. Numerous cyclists passed by: some in a hurry, on their way to work; others, retired perhaps, at a more leisurely pace. One cyclist wearing a blue jersey decorated with the yellow shell symbol of the Camino de Santiago yelled out "Buon cammino!" as he sped past. Another, pausing at a dock along the canal, said hello and I asked him to take my picture. Another local cyclist, on a silver vintage bicycle that matched his hair and age, stopped to ask where I was going, and where I was from. We got chatting, and he told me he was born in Vicenza, but conceived in Genoa. In 1943... when the city was being bombarded by the Allies, from the sea. In view of his imminent birth, his parents retreated to Vicenza: far from the sea and any of the Allies' targets. I asked the man what there was to see in Battaglia Terme, the town just coming up on my route: "Not much," he replied.  "But there's a very nice park, if you want to take a break! Carry on straight ahead and then turn right."

And so I did, turning right at a street where I saw that there were a couple of bars. I stopped in a wine bar for a refreshing glass of the local sparkling wine (and sparkling water), just across from the entrance to the recomended park. After gulping down my water and sipping my wine, served with crisps which I surreptitiously supplemented with cheese and celery sticks out of my backpack, I crossed the street to the park. Here I ate the rest of the cheese and an apple, and lay down on a concrete bench to rest, having decided not to walk all the way to the other end of the park and back merely in order to see the outside of the former spa building. Constructed in 1936, the spa originally served members of what was then the Fascist National Social Security Institute who were judged to be in need of spa treatments, handling up to 500 patients a day. During the war the facility was used to treat soldiers in need of a rest cure, and it continued to be operated by Italy's National Social Security Institute until 1993, when it was closed and largely abandoned, along with the adjacent 9-hectare park, now weed-infested, wild and mostly deserted - ideal for a midday nap!

Turn this way for wine!

The sort of photo you take after a glass of Prosecco on an empty stomach 

The entrance to the park and former spa area

Looking back, leaving Battaglia Terme 

The path along the Battaglia canal now took me through an area called the Valli Selvatiche, or Wild Valleys: what used to be a swamp, until it was drained with the construction of a drainage canal in 1557, now known as the Ponte-Canale del Montaigne because the famous 16th-century French traveller and essayist described it in his Travels in France and Italy, published in 1580.

After walking for another half hour or so, I reached the outskirts of Monselice (population approx. 17,000). In a small park just outside the city walls was a refreshment kiosk run by Auser, a non-profit association for the promotion of "active ageing" and equal opportunities for women and immigrants. As an ageing woman immigrant, I had to stop by and support them! I bought a beer to celebrate the conclusion of my first stage back on the Via Romea Germanica.

The beer, a Dolomiti rossa, was slightly warm but went well with trail mix! And the kiosk had a washroom - always the first thing you look for upon arriving in a town. 

The park also has a monument to the war dead, depicting a grenadier in the act of throwing a hand grenade, looking rather unfortunately similar to the tin soldier from The Wizard of Oz.

I left the park and walked through an opening in the medieval city walls into the old town centre of Monselice. 

A historical note: Monselice

The Monselice area has been settled since the Bronze Age. In Roman times it was known as Mons Silicis, meaning "mountain of flintstone", possibly due to the local quarries of trachyte, an igneous rock composed primarily of alkali feldspar which is usually light-colored and fine-grained, formed by the rapid cooling of lava enriched with silica and alkali metals.

The earliest known documents about Monselice date back to 568 AD and are related to the conquest of the town by the Lombards. The town was under Byzantine rule for a brief period until its conquest by king Agilulf around 602. A self-governed comune in the 12th century, Monselice then aligned with the Ghibellines (supporters of the Emperor) against the Guelfs (supporters of the Pope); the Ghibellines improved the town's fortifications and made it an important local stronghold. The town later fell under the rule of Padova before becoming a part of the Republic of Venice in the 15th century. 

My first stop was the tourist information office, where the kind lady on duty stamped my pilgrim credential and offered to look after my backpack while I walked up the hill to the church of Santa Giustina and, further up, the Seven Churches Sanctuary. 

Santa Giustina 

The Santuario delle Sette Chiese, also referred to as the Via Romana, is a group of chapels in imitation of the circuit of the seven pilgrimage churches of Rome. Pietro Duodo (1554–1610), a Venetian patrician, appointed architect Vincenzo Scamozzi to design the Sanctuary; it was built between 1605 and 1615, and Pope Paul V issued a papal bull granting to pilgrims visiting the Sanctuary the same indulgencies as were granted to pilgrims visiting the seven churches of Rome - hence the phrase Romanis basilicis pares inscribed on the portal. Each chapel contains a painting of the saint it is dedicated to, by Palma il Giovane.

At the top of the hill and the culmination of the route is a larger church, the Oratorio di San Giorgio, in the apse of which are bodies of saints displayed in cupboards with glass fronts....  creepy! An old man in a side room set up as a souvenir shop tried unsuccessfully to sell me a rosary, or larger and more expensive souvenir of my visit to the shrine. 

Back down the hill, I collected my backpack and walked across town to the Capuchin convent of San Giacomo, which was built in 1162 outside the city walls, specifically for the purpose of hosting pilgrims on their way to the three main holy destinations: Jerusalem, Santiago and Rome. Rebuilt in 1332 and radically altered in 1420, the convent was dismembered under the Napoleonic government and reduced to use as military barracks before being returned to the Franciscan friars in 1874. In 1999 the convent was restored to its original vocation as a pilgrim hostel, in view of the Jubilee of the year 2000.

Here I have a bed, bathroom, shower - even a full kitchen. After taking advantage of the first three of these facilities, I ventured out in search of a supermarket in order to make use of the kitchen as well. The supermarket was not as close as I would have hoped, but well-stocked, with a deli department where I picked up some sarde alla veneziana and some sautéed greens, fruit and yogurt for a healthy dinner.

After dinner, I resisted the temptation of the comfy bed in the next room and walked back into the town centre to watch a chess game with living chessmen (and women): the last of a series of challenges making up the Palio di Monselice. 

Il Palio di Monselice

The city of Monselice is divided into nine districts, "contradas", who compete in a series of events requiring skill, dexterity, cunning and strength, including a chess tournament, a relay race, a game of steal the flag, and an archery tournament, culminating in the "Quintana" jousting competition, the winner of which receives the coveted "Palio", a red silk flag to be displayed until the next year's competition. Related events held during the same week include a historic parade, a medieval market and a drumming competition.

I happened to be in town during the week of the Palio, and specifically on the evening when the final game in the chess tournament is re-enacted with living chess pieces on a giant chessboard in the town square.

A very special ending to my first full day back walking on the Via Romea Germanica!

Padova train station - Monselice 29 km

(9 on the afternoon of arrival + 20 next day)